


So I Love You Because I Know No Other Way

by DontCallMeShirley



Series: There Are None So Blind as Those Who Will Not See [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Jealousy, M/M, Matchmaking, Misunderstood Feelings, Mutual Pining, Tango, obikin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-20 20:09:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20233663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontCallMeShirley/pseuds/DontCallMeShirley
Summary: Anakin and Obi-Wan just need a little push to admit their feelings.





	So I Love You Because I Know No Other Way

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Pablo Neruda Love Sonnet XVII. Impetus for the story was the song Mi Confesion by Gotan Project.

Anakin had spent the entire time on Milongas feeling more and more unsettled. Not because of the mission--so far it had been a simple enough negotiation for resources, which Obi-Wan was spearheading anyway--but because of the people. Or rather, their emotions. 

The Milonguerans, a near-human species with luminous black eyes and vibrant iridescent skin, were what one might call passionate. They felt everything intensely, and did not bother to hide their feelings in any way. Anakin knew he should have felt right at home, since that pretty much summed him up as well, but instead it was creating a feedback loop that was putting him on edge and giving him a massive headache. 

And one Milongueran in particular was making it worse.

From the moment they set foot on the planet, Obi-Wan had been his annoyingly charming self, and Queen Ada had succumbed immediately. They’d been batting their eyelashes at each other ever since, and it was infuriating. He wasn’t jealous, of course. Why would he be jealous? At the end of the day, he and Obi-Wan were The Team, and nothing would change that. It’s just that things he could usually let roll off his back weren’t rolling.

When he had complained to Obi-Wan about the emotional feedback loop and the headache (leaving out the part about the queen) all he’d gotten was amusement, and a quick, “Now you know how I feel.” Sometimes that guy was a real wanker. He sure wished Ashoka was here instead of at the temple taking exams. She would at least sympathize. 

When Anakin bristled, Obi-Wan sighed and smiled softly, turning to face him.

“Come here,” he said, and Anakin drew closer and closed his eyes as Obi-Wan lay calloused palms along his cheeks and lightly massaged his temples with his thumbs, channeling the Force to alleviate his headache and sluice away the building frustration. 

“Mmmm,” said Anakin, unable to articulate further. Sometimes that guy was a real angel. 

He almost told him he was soothing, before he realized that he was thinking things about Obi-Wan that he’d once thought about Padme, back when he believed their love could really go somewhere. His eyes popped open. As he stared directly into Obi-Wan’s clear blue-gray eyes he felt for just a moment like he could taste the universe. 

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly. Might as well wish for the three moons. This was something he knew from experience, something he thought he’d shoved down so far that it would never see the light of day again. 

He swallowed and pressed his lips together; then he realized that Obi-Wan still had his hands in his hair, his thumbs resting on the sides of his face, and they were still staring at each other. There was confusion in Obi-Wan’s eyes and a fleeting look on his face that Anakin didn’t recognize, but he dismissed it all from his thoughts as he hurried away.

*****

By the end of the negotiations Anakin was sure that his longing for sweet, sweet freedom was visible to everyone. Queen Ada seemed to see it at any rate. He’d caught her watching him, chin on her hand, as though he were a puzzle to solve. Then she’d turned back to Obi-Wan, who was seated beside her, and laid her hand on his arm, and laughed a beautiful silvery laugh that made Obi Wan smile. The light shimmered across her skin and sparkled in her large, liquid eyes.

Anakin wondered how bad of an intergalactic incident he would cause if he kicked her.

It felt like she was taunting him by fawning over Obi-Wan, and Anakin could have sworn she was drawing out the talks on purpose. He pressed the heels of his hands to his temples in a vain attempt to relieve the pounding in his head.

_ Almost over _ , he told himself.  _ Almost over. _

It was the final day and they were in their meeting room with the queen, king, and several ministers to hammer out last minute details. This time, Anakin had put himself between the queen and Obi-Wan, protocol, or even manners, be damned. He’d gotten looks from both of them--Obi-Wan surprised and the queen amused--but no one had said anything. 

He had to admit that he wasn’t paying full attention to what was being said. For one thing he was a mediocre diplomat; for another, he was too busy watching Obi-Wan to make sure he wasn’t falling prey to the queen’s wiles. He'd caught Obi-Wan's eye a few times, but his emotions were opaque in the Force.

And suddenly, finally, negotiations were over.

“Now that we have finalized the treaty, we shall have a celebration. Tonight,” the queen said, tapping one finger thoughtfully on her lips. She waved her hand and a servant hurried over. She whispered into the girl’s ear, and sent her on her way. “Preparations are already beginning.” She looked at Obi-Wan and Anakin for a moment and a self-satisfied smile spread across her face. “We shall have a ball to celebrate our treaty and our new friends. You two shall open the ball with us.”

Obi-Wan looked a little taken aback, which caught Anakin’s interest. There wasn’t much that could throw Obi-Wan Kenobi off his game.

“That’s quite flattering, Your Majesty, but surely…”

“This great friendship between Milongas and the Republic would not be possible without you, and we wish to recognize it,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.

Obi-Wan knew a losing battle when he saw one, and merely bowed. “Thank you Your Majesty. We would be honored.”

“You mentioned the other day that you are familiar with our traditional dance, Master Kenobi,” she said, head cocked to the side, smile still there. Anakin squelched an overwhelming desire to say something rude to wipe her smile away and take her attention off of Obi-Wan. 

“I am. But my partner…” he began, before he was cut off with an imperious gesture. Anakin’s head swiveled between the two of them. Then he looked at King Tete, who was seated across from them. The king was gazing fondly at his wife.

“You can guide your Master Skywalker in the steps.” She slanted her head toward Anakin, an unreadable look in her eyes. “It’s all settled then!” As they got up to leave the room, she hooked her arm through Obi-Wan’s and walked at his side, far closer than was necessary. Anakin and the king followed behind, Anakin glowering. What was she playing at? He could tell she was up to something.

“My wife has developed a fondness for your friend,” the king whispered conspiratorially. “You must not mind, she loves to play matchmaker.”

Anakin gaped at the king, dumbfounded. What kind of planet was this when a husband—and the king at that—encouraged his wife’s flirtations?! If  _ he _ was married--but that was nonsense. He was a Jedi. Which meant no attachments. He breathed in deep through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. 

Anakin finally extricated Obi-Wan from the queen’s clutches when the hall to their rooms branched off, glaring at her while she smiled that cat and canary smile again. He held firmly to Obi-Wan’s arm as they watched her sauntering away, then Anakin drew him to their suite, hand still clamped around Obi-Wan’s forearm. 

“I think I can walk unaided, Anakin,” he said mildly, but he made no effort to break contact. Obi-Wan was watching him with that same odd look he’d had before, but Anakin was in no mood to wonder over Obi-Wan’s esoteric facial expressions. He was too busy brooding.

“Tell that to the queen!” Anakin growled. He knew he was broadcasting his jealousy and anger, but he didn’t care; and he could see that Obi-Wan sensed it, if his look of surprise was anything to go by, but he decided he didn’t care about that either. When they were back in their rooms Anakin dropped his arm and stalked away. “I’m taking a nap!”

“But Anakin…” he heard as he shut his door with more force than was necessary. 

***** 

Anakin was tired, but he wasn’t sure that he really wanted a nap. He’d just said that to get away. This planet was magnifying his every emotion, and his head was splitting, and Obi-Wan loved the queen and not him, and he couldn’t think straight. 

So he tried, and failed, to sleep. He tried, and failed, to meditate. He eventually took to performing katas in an endless loop, a sort of moving meditation, which did help. He was then able to use the Force to ease his headache, although he wasn’t as good at it as Obi-Wan. 

His feelings for Obi-Wan were so unrequited as to be irrelevant. He  _ knew _ that. He did. Unfortunately though, due to his earlier display, Obi-Wan was now aware of them. Or at least of his jealousy of Queen Ada. Well, being the good Jedi that he was, Anakin was sure Obi-Wan would ignore it, because stupid robot Jedi didn’t have feelings, ever, of any sort…

A vase on the table next to him exploded.

He sighed and cleaned up the mess the best he could with a cloth. 

They were leaving the next day, and then he could start to put all this behind him. He would make sure he and Ahsoka were sent to the front lines, without Obi-Wan, where he could lose himself in battle and channel his excess emotions into destroying the Separatists instead of helpless vases. A wave of hopelessness washed over him and his shoulders slumped. Who was he kidding? Obi-Wan could be clear on the other side of the galaxy and Anakin could never see him again and he would still love him. Still need him like he needed air to breath. He didn't know any other way to live. It didn't even matter that Obi-Wan would never feel the same, his feelings on this wouldn't change. Hadn't changed, in years, whether he had wanted to admit it to himself or not. 

About 30 minutes before they needed to be downstairs, he heard a tentative knock on his door. He was tempted not to answer it, to feign an illness and remain upstairs, but he couldn’t do it. Obi-Wan had attempted to drill the Jedi love of duty into him, but that wasn’t why he went. He went because it was Obi-Wan on the other side. Force help him. He opened the door and stood there looking at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan stood there looking at him, brows furrowed.

“Is everything alright, Anakin?”

“I’m fine,” he replied shortly. “Is it time to go?”

“Almost. I wanted to talk to you about the dance first.”

Oh yeah. He’d almost forgotten about that part. Well, he’d danced before. Not with Obi-Wan though, he supposed. “What about it?”

Obi-Wan weighed his words for a moment, heightened color in his cheeks. “It’s called the tango. It’s considered...it’s rather...it’s a bit...that is to say, it’s a bit of a romantic dance.”

Anakin’s eyebrows went up. “Romantic?” 

“It’s sometimes called the 3-minute romance,” Obi-Wan explained. “The movements can also be complex, though no one will be expecting us to perform like natives.”

Perform...oh. They were dancing a romantic dance. Together. In front of everyone. Somehow that hadn’t sunk in either. Maybe he should just ask Obi-Wan to take him out back and shoot him now. 

_ Almost over, almost over, almost over _ , he chanted to himself. They were leaving tomorrow. He could make it. Deep breath. Think of duty. No, kark duty! Think of how this was almost over. As a mantra  _ almost over _ was working way better for him than the Jedi code.

He realized he'd been silent for awhile and that Obi-Wan was staring at him with concern. He should probably say something. “Umm,” he said, then cleared his throat. “You know this dance?”

Obi-Wan nodded, still uncomfortable. “I do.” He didn’t elaborate.

Anakin bared his teeth at him. There was more to that story. He probably danced it  _ romantically _ with someone he was in love with. Like Satine. Or Quinlan Vos. Or karking Asajj Ventress. Obi-Wan looked a little alarmed, so Anakin did his best to relax his face. 

“Well, I’ve never heard of it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I can lead you, if you’ll let me. We can use the bond too.”

The bond. Anakin worried at his bottom lip as he did some quick mental calculations. They didn’t use it much outside of battle these days. How much of his feelings would Obi-Wan be privy to? He supposed he could shield his thoughts enough to get through this dance. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any practice at hiding how he felt. Even if he wasn’t very good at it.

_ Almost over _ , he thought. “Sounds like a plan,” he said.

*****

When they went downstairs they were maneuvered onto a giant stage, where they stood to the side while various dignitaries gave long-winded and highly emotive speeches. Anakin tried to ignore the thousands of spectators. Tens of thousands.

Then, finally, the king was speaking, thanking the Jedi, thanking the Republic, and announcing that in a spirit of goodwill and unity the Jedi would be opening the ball with them. 

It was time. Obi-Wan held out his hand and lightly supported Anakin’s fingertips to guide him out to the center of the dance floor, just behind the king and queen. The crowd oohed and aahed and pressed closer. 

“Anakin, you have to relax. You’re going to have to let me lead,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Anakin realized his shoulders were tensed up, so he took a deep breath and relaxed. He didn’t like to relinquish what little control he had, but it was only for a few moments. He could do this. He could do this and not hump Obi-Wan’s leg, or beg for his love.  _ Almost over. _ He took another deep breath and strengthened his shields. Then he opened his side of the bond wider. 

He closed his eyes as he was enveloped with Obi-Wan’s warmth and gentle strength and his care, always his care...it was like lying in a sunbeam. He opened his eyes. He and Obi-Wan were facing each other, chests together, his left hand in Obi-Wan’s right, his right on Obi-Wan’s hip. Obi-Wan’s left hand was at the small of his back. He could feel their weight settle between them. Balanced. Obi-Wan regarded him steadily with those clear, blue-gray eyes. They had that look in them again, the one that Anakin still couldn’t name, but that was starting to tickle the back of his mind. 

Before he could ponder it, the music started; it was passionate, melancholy. He could feel Obi-Wan synching with the beat, could feel it match his own heartbeat. From the corner of his eye he saw the king and queen start. Then Obi-Wan stepped forward, and in a swirl of color and movement he was guiding Anakin with his body, using the Force to give him the sense of where they were going next. 

Romantic was an insufficient word for this dance. Leave it to Obi-Wan to mischaracterize something so inherently intimate. 

It was sensuous and electric, and he knew the smart thing for his heart would be to maintain as much of an emotional distance as possible. But when did he ever make the smart choice? He threw  _ almost over _ out the window and decided that just for a moment, he was going to allow himself this. To pretend, just for a moment, that Obi-Wan was here because he wanted to be, and not because of duty. 

He sunk himself deeper into the bond and into the moment, and let himself be carried along. To be receptive. To be open. It was like floating weightlessly along a river. And in doing so he found an echo within Obi-Wan of weightlessness, of peace. Of home. Just as in battle, just as in sparring, they were partners, giving and taking. 

The sensations of Obi-Wan’s body pressed so close, and his feelings, so close, almost overwhelmed Anakin for a moment. Then Obi-Wan spun him out, and he breathed. They came together again fluidly, face to face; Anakin found he was caught in the spell of Obi-Wan’s eyes, unable to look away, and he saw, again, that something that he didn’t fully understand, but which was beginning to feel like desire...was it his own desire reflecting back at him, or was it Obi-Wan?

Obi-Wan spun him again, then followed, their legs intertwining, their torsos pressed close. His face, so close, his lips, so close…

And his eyes were vulnerable. 

It  _ was _ desire. Longing. Guilt. And understanding.

Understanding. Obi-Wan knew how Anakin felt, thanks to his jealous outburst. And Obi-Wan...well. Obi-Wan appeared to feel the same way.

Disbelief almost made him stumble, until he was righted by Obi-Wan. His own understanding underwent a seismic shift. His reading of everything had been wrong, cruelly so, to Obi-Wan and to himself; and his misconceptions broke into a thousand pieces and reformed to create a new picture, one whose edges fit together much more smoothly. Anakin had a sudden, insane desire to kiss Obi-Wan, to let him know he wasn’t alone. To kiss away the guilt. To kiss as desire ignited them both. Instead he used the dance, spinning out and then angling himself in toward the other man in a repetition of the intricate footwork that they had just performed, trusting Obi-Wan to lead him, receptive to his guidance. Anakin would follow him to the ends of the galaxy. And he wanted Obi-Wan to know.

Obi-Wan’s swallowed and closed his eyes, his lashes shadowing his cheeks, and Anakin felt his breath catch. Then he looked up and smiled at Anakin, and Anakin smiled back. He felt yearning and love and lust, and it was each of them and both of them together. Every step a confession.

Somehow the song was over, and he was surprised to hear the cheers from the crowd. He’d actually forgotten there was anyone else there. He supposed that meant he couldn’t race away with Obi-Wan into the night, into a dark, secluded corner; or even better, into his bedroom. Yet. Something had changed between them, and Anakin had no intention of stepping back.

He found himself partnered with the queen for the next dance. She was smiling that smile again. 

And just as he’d realized he’d been so wrong about Obi-Wan’s feelings for him, he realized he’d been just as wrong about the queen.  _ She loves to play matchmaker.  _ He wasn’t so sure about her methods, but he couldn’t deny they were effective. He was in her debt. Forever. He bowed low to her. “Your humble servant, Your Majesty.”

She laughed that beautiful, silvery laugh, and patted his cheek. “Perhaps you are worthy of him after all.” She looked at him appraisingly. “And he of you.”

And then the king swept by and whirled her away, and there was Obi-Wan, standing behind him. Before he could say anything--and Anakin could tell he wanted to say things, many things-- Anakin took his hands and drew him in. He pressed against him, never breaking eye contact, as they moved back out among the dancers. Words would have been superfluous at that moment. There would be time enough for talking later.

**Author's Note:**

> Padme and Anakin didn't happen in this scenario--I decided that his Sand People Murder was a deal breaker for her in the end.
> 
> This story got started when I was listening to Gotan Project and thinking how Obi-Wan and Anakin should dance the tango together, and then wondering how to make that happen. It sort of spiraled away from me. I love Obikin but they have some emotional issues, so I gave them an outside nudge from a meddling queen.


End file.
